Outshine - The Miles Upshur Story
by Outshine
Summary: I proudly present you my first and last Outlast fanfiction: Outshine - The Miles Upshur Story, in which Miles is a struggling wedding videographer who just got invited to film the open day at the Mount Massive Asylum. Prepare for the criminally insane to bring you the horror of their... workshops and art skills. Or is that just the beginning? Tumblr account: Goner's Planet
1. The Beginning

Outshine

Between violating every basic human right and making disgustingly high amounts of profit, the Murkoff corporation figured it out that it would be beneficial to their inmates (and to Murkoff's figures) to hold an open day in the Mount Massive Asylum. Not only that, but they would also make help the patients show what they are capable of – besides gory-bloody murders, of course – by proposing a competition among them: Who will Outshine the others?

They hired the best media staff possible to film the event, among them Miles Upshur, the all-famous wedding videographer. He found this to be a great opportunity, since he got tired of all his other part-time jobs of recording paranormal activities and cheating husbands. Sometimes the two was even the same. So, he was all ready to bring the party to a new level.

On September 18, he arrived late to the event. Photographers, Murkoff personnel and others swarmed the place. Miles easily spotted the person who hired him, as he was the only one to look like "I'm rich and you are not". His name was Jeremy Blaire, a sleazy boss with a voice of a spoiled brat.

"Did you get here easily?", Blaire asked when Miles approached him, but it seemed to be more of a polite slogan than an honest question.

"To tell the truth, I thought I was lost when I almost ran over a guy, who was frantically shouting that 'Cut the man, paint the lines' at that slumber castle. But this building's only a tad bit different", Miles answered. Blaire stared blankly at him. "Foreshadowing, eh? By the way, could you please stop recording my crotch?" Miles quickly turned off his camera, his face flushed with embarrassment immediately. "Excuse me, it's just an odd habit of mine".

"Anyway, in case you need any technical assistance, let me introduce you our software engineer, Waylon Park, who will _enthusiastically _help you.", having said that, a pale blond guy stepped in front of Miles. The two silently nodded, sharing the bond of despising Mr. Blaire.

"O.K., please escort Mr. Upshur through the establishment, right Mr. Park? If you pardon me, I have something to check out", Blaire said, then rushed out the scene.

"Then let me show you around, Mr. Upshur. We have several display rooms where you can see for yourself what we mean when we say 'freak show'", Waylon silently pointed in the way of the massive building. Upshur readied his loyal camera, silently vowing to himself that no matter what he will see inside, it is still better than those dog-weddings he had to record and cut to the song "Who Let the Dogs Out".


	2. Nudes and Rudes

Chapter 2

Miles deemed it a big mistake to think that "Bare Art – Flash Your Flesh" was the good place to start the tour around the asylum. The organisers were the "Twins", who looked rather bored despite the fact that this must have been the first time to expose their naked thoughts. One of their exhibited pieces of art was a still life of two oranges and a cucumber. The other was not that subtle in its approach to artistic expression: they were plain nudities.

"Well, these guys must have experimented with _length_ and _breadth_ of this kind of art", said Miles ironically.

"Yeah, you can say they are ahead of everyone else in this competition by several _inches_", agreed Waylon. Miles felt that the invisible connection between them was even stronger than he previously imagined. This guy definitely spoke Milesspeak."The next exhibition is called 'Anger Room'. The inmate to organise it was Chris Walker, quite a spectacle to meet. Come this way."

Miles reconsidered his earlier statement that the Twins were weird and gross. When the colossal form of Chris Walker appeared in the next room, with the abomination that he called his facial features, he almost dropped his cam. Which would have been a shame, since the room was full of… interesting things to record. First of all, there were mannequin heads all over the place (as Waylon commented, they had been originally part of another inmate's bizarre show, the one named Eddie Gluskin), which were connected to the centre of the room by chains, where there was an ever so disturbing display of a pig's head.

"Originally I wanted to name it 'A Machine for Little Piggies'", said Walker when he noticed Miles' interest that he mistook for admiration. "Then I thought it would suck."

"Is this a piece of therapeutical art?", Miles asked.

"In what sense?", Walker grunted. Waylon began to pull Miles away from Walker as he sensed that Walker is not in the cheeriest of moods.

"I mean… is this a way to come to terms with your… _state_?", Miles blabbered.

"What… _state_?", Walker inquired as calmly as he could, which meant he was shouting at the top of his lungs.

"That you are _fa_-", started Miles, but Waylon interrupted. "He meant that you are locked up in an asylum. But Mr. Walker, we had a _whale_ of a time and now I think it is time to leave."

The response was not at all kind for he tried to straight up murder Miles and Waylon by throwing mannequin heads at them and cursing their ancestors. While they were fleeing, Miles felt the urge to yell back. "I am glad that you did not join the Twins' exhibition, 'cause then they would have had to name it 'The Good, the Bad and the Freakin' Ugly'!"

"Or Lord of the Onion-rings: Return of the Chicken-wing!", Waylon laughed.

Yes, he surely spoke Milesspeak.


	3. Pepper is the Salt of Earth

Chapter 3 – Pepper is the Salt of Earth

"Are you hungry by any chance, Mr. Upshur?", Waylon asked as they were strolling in the halls of Mount Massive. Miles patted Waylon on the back, and told him "Call me Miles, buddy. And yes, I could bite a thing or two".

Waylon gave him an odd look. "Strange, 'I Could Bite a Thing or Two' is how the next exhibition is called, but it is rather a gastro-show. It is the work of Frank Manera and one of the enthusiastic executives of Murkoff, Richard Trager."

Weird enough, the door to the gastro-show was first locked. Miles proceeded in knocking and after a brief moment of waiting, the door was swung open and an impatient, grubby, long-haired person occupied their sight. "What is that you want? The cake is not ready, tell Gluskin that he will have to wait longer to get his friggin' precious cake!"

"Excuse me, I am a guest videographer and I am here to shoot some footage for my show", interrupted Miles. "Who are you, if I might ask?"

"Name's Manera, man, hold on a sec.", answered Manera, secretly (or not so secretly) eyeing their unclad body parts. Then he looked past his shoulder and checked the part of the room Miles and Waylon could not behold and nodded. "'kay, come on in."

Tables inhabited the room, with curious-looking dishes on top of them. They all looked pretty _raw_ to Miles' taste. The room was separated from the kitchen, from where they heard the hustle and bustle of a fourth person, most probably Trager's.

"When they said that I can cook with _organic_ food I felt hecka' excited, but it later turned out they meant mostly veggies. Not that I have a problem with veggies. Or _green stuff, _y' know what I'm saying it's just they always give me the goddamn _munchies_ and it's hard to get what a man really wants around these parts", Manera spewed. "Trager is a bit tied up at the moment, busy finishing the cake for the wedding."

"What wedding?", Miles eagerly asked, but Waylon's question preceded his. "So you will have a menu for vegetarians, too?"

"Or they will be on the menu, bro", replied Manera sinisterly, then laughed like a hyena. It made Miles' _flesh_ creep.

Miles and Waylon interchanged looks (they were on the same wavelength by now) and started for the kitchen. "If it's not a problem, we would still like to talk with Mr. Trager", said Miles. Manera shrugged and went back to drool over a _meaty _dish.

The two men cautiously opened the door to the kitchen. They could barely make out the shape of Trager, with all the rushing and hurrying, but what they could hear was the following:

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, but no one can take my notes. So sing along, pal and buddy, and bake the cookie, glaze the pudding. Roses are red, violets are blue, if you don't cook I'll have to slice you.", right at this point, he turned around and tossed a large pair of rusty shears in the air in the direction of the eavesdroppers. Miles and Waylon jumped back, bumping into Manera, who pushed them back in.

"Oh my! I merely intended on impressing you buddies with my punny skills!", apologised Trager. "Though I am more than busy with preparing for this silly wedding. Wanna lend me a _hand_? Oh, is that a camera? Why not start our gastro-blog? We could name it, let's see, 'Trager and Manera - Better than Cholera'. What do you think, gentlemen?"

"Amazing idea", Miles admitted. "It waters my mouth just to discuss this with you, but I am afraid we have to visit other shows as well.". Waylon savagely waggled his head up and down.

"Have _heart, _man!", Manera stepped closer.

It was an intensely stressful situation; neither side was willing to give in. Fortunately, Miles had one on the spur of the moment-idea that could help both of them escape.

"What about a cooking contest? The two of you against us, huh? I just turned the tables, buddies! Are you ready to be smashed by my superior culinary skills?", Miles swagger'd.

"So you wanna gave us a taste of our own, right buddy?!", Trager exclaimed.

"Bring on the fight, videographer! What you gonna do, record us to death?", Manera tauntingly said.

Miles swiftly grabbed a piece of red meat, and threw it at Manera. His eyes went all goggly, and before he knew it, he jumped up and caught the fresh red meat mid-air with his mouth. Trager attempted at attacking Waylon, but he managed to defend himself from the blow of the shears by sprinkling pepper in his assailant's eyes. And out of kindness, he sprinkled pepper on Manera's meal, too.

"Just stay here and cook, a**holes!", Miles blurted out before running away hastily.


	4. Pissing Contest

Miles had to face it: he and Waylon might as well be good athletes, but they were frightened as hell. They found shelter from their rampant hunters in two lockers near the vocational block (as the map read), pondering on their opportunities of safely returning to their homes.

"What should we do now, Waylon? You know this place, give me something!", Miles whispered. Waylon sighed in the darkness of his locker. "To tell the truth, Miles, we have only one place to go and you won't be glad upon hearing it."

"Is it that wedding-thing the others were talking about? Why, that sounds great! There must be lots of people there, we could easily hide in the big commotion", said the videographer. "Just tell me there are no dogs there."

Pleased with their severely defected plan, they left the sanctuary of their lockers. In fact, just in time to stumble into Jeremy Blaire, who seemed to be extremely exasperated. Waylon could tell that it was probably their fault. It was always _his_ fault, at least. "_Mr. Park_, if you ever fail to report to my desk again, I am going to tell your wife what you did with Steve's doughnut!". "_Mr. Park_, you are so useless it made my coffee cold and tasteless! Go and make another cup for me!". "_Mr. Park_, your wife called again. The next time she asks me about your laundry, I'm gonna piss into your goddamn laptop and make you write your goddamn last will with it!". Yet again, a sadistic smile cracked Blaire's face.

"Oh, if it isn't Mr. Upshur and Mr. Park! I just heard you have made a great impression back there in the Male Ward. Congratulations! I would like to express my gratitude by enlisting you to the Bride Pageant, starting just about _now_, so hurry up since you need the perfect attire for the big day!", Blaire made a hurrying gesture with his hands. As an answer, Miles did an unbecoming gesture with his hands.

"No way I am gonna take part in that kind of stuff! I'm a man, for Christ's sake!", Miles uttered. Blaire nonchalantly crossed his arms, supressing a yawn. "Inform our friend here, Mr. Park. But better make it quick". Miles turned to Waylon, who all of a sudden felt really anxious.

"Um, Miles, the whole pageant-event is organised by the Groom, aka Eddie Gluskin. He's rather fond of sewing and clothes, but he is all about weddings. Nevertheless, he is particularly picky when it comes to brides. Take notice of the fact that there are no women here; this is why we need to put up a pretend-game and have his own ways of selecting from his 'brides-to-bes'".

"And of course keep in mind, gentlemen, if you do not feel committed enough for such a great step towards happiness, I'm going to get you committed to a prison. End of story, you can go on your merry ways." Blaire added, exhausting every ounce of pessimistic, sadistic, sarcastic, torture-istic element of his words.

"You know what? I am going to do this at will, since I am a wedding videographer. That's what I do for a living, douche!", Miles retorted, grabbing Waylon by his arm and strutting away with great reassurance in his manhood. But since he was a fan of last words, he could not resist the temptation of saying "And by the way, I will be a beautiful bride!"


	5. When a Plan Comes Together (or not)

Chapter 5 – When a Plan Comes Together… or Not

"Is this Gluskin fellow after a Cinderella-themed thing? Like he puts that glass shoe on your foot and if it fits, you will have to play the role of the bride, or what? How will he choose the one?" Miles asked casually. Waylon flinched. "I don't get your cheerfulness, really. We are pretty much being forced to dress up as fake brides, sorted by a criminally insane person, who – heaven forbid - might lead you to the fake altar and have you say your fake vows in front of a whole asylum. What is there to be happy about?" he said uncomprehendingly.

"Waylon, do not lose your spirits! We have to stick together, because only our joint efforts will be enough to solve the situation. Now think. It's not that hard. If either of us is picked, then the other will simply stand up and say 'I object!'. Wedding's done, but we still can get a slice of cake at the end of the day. Well, it's not that big of a treat since those weirdos made it." Miles winked and was overally satisfied with his plan.

Waylon was not so much. "Miles, I appreciate your way of thinking, yet I find your impulsiveness highly worrisome. I won't be a Hannibal to your Murdock. We need an elaborate plan this time, a plan that will cripple that bastard Blaire once and for all."

"Shoot the genius, Mr. Park" Miles answered with no small amount of satire.

"All right. The first part of my plan is the same as yours. The second part of it will be your job to do: you will have to execute some things the exact way I will tell you to do, got it?" Waylon ordered.

"God, I hope you DO have a plan B." Miles moaned. "But hey, I figured we could be in a worse situation. Imagine if you were to marry Chris Walker with a Star Wars themed wedding, where he is roleplaying Jabba and you are his Leia. Gross."

[five minutes later]

Waylon nervously entered the room which was labelled as "Bridal Dressing Room", with hand-drawn hearts around the letters. There were 5 to 6 pageant contestants in the room, already fiddling with their lockers or with their dresses. Waylon did not recognise any familiar faces, which he could not decide whether it was a relief or not.

The leftover bridal gowns were hung up on a hook. Waylon selected the least provocative and most traditional one and looked around uneasily. How is he supposed to get into this thing? He was not there when his wife, Lisa put on this heavy burden of a clothing. Should he just jump into it and hope for the best?

"Need some help, Park?" a slimy voice questioned. He followed the source of it and it turned out to be possessed by one of his _favourite _lab assistants, Andrew, a pervy dude. Still, he had no choice and he copycatted Miles' uncaring attitude. "Yep, Andrew, it would be quite nice of you."

"Then strip, Park." Andrew purred. "Gosh, I hope I did not put on some weight since the last rehearsal. That'd be a major turn-off for the groom to stand beside an elephant on such a gleeful day, don't you think?" said Waylon teasingly while trying to cover as many body parts as he could.

Andrew raised his bushy eyebrows. "On the contrary, dear. You will have to put these inside your dress to make you more… desirable" and he handed Waylon bra stuffings.

He looked at them quizzically, thinking to himself that "They will never-ever pay me enough for this". He adjusted everything (yeah, even the stuffings) and turned around. "How do I look?"

"Really nice. I hope I will have the right of the first night" answered Andrew. Waylon face furrowed into one big frown, but he could not respond since his heart skipped a beat a second after. A broad-shouldered, tall figure entered the bridal dressing room.

"What did I just hear, darling? Who would like to have the right of the first night with whom?"


	6. Introducing: The Groom

Chapter 6 – Introducing: The Groom

"You are not allowed to enter the bridal dressing room, Gluskin!" Andrew barked. Nevertheless, it was too late, Gluskin already scanned through the contestants other than Waylon and was not content with the result. Waylon tried to hide behind Andrew, but when his attempts failed, he dived into one of the lockers ajar with a stealthy move. However, Gluskin's voice reached out to him. "Don't be shy, darling. You have my word, I will only take a tiny peek at your face and dress".

Waylon took a deep breath. And another thousand. "Is this what they call coming out of the closet?" he asked before opening the door and exposing himself to The Groom, who raised his hand to his heart in adoration before speaking. "Darling, you look dazzling! I am awfully sorry, but I cannot keep myself to my words, your mere sight soothes my eyes and my mind. I hope you don't think I'm rushing things, but I would like to make you, my betrothed, my only one in marriage for all eternity!"

"A marriage based on looks is a rotten one" said Waylon speedily. Gluskin slowly shook his head and then grabbed Andrew by his throat. Waylon shrieked and retreated a few steps.

"This filthy rat made you uncomfortable, darling? I dispose of him now!" Waylon never would have thought that someone could make him feel sympathy towards Andrew. He desperately looked for help and shouted at the other contestants. "Don't just stand there, do something! He'll kill him and I can't even move in this goddamn costume!"

"What should we do, man? We are supposed to be the wedding band! Should we beat him up with our trumpet?" they shouted back.

"Shit! It's always up to a woman to do a man's job!" Waylon cried out. "Groom… I mean Gluskin! Eddie! Please, spare his life! He is the… wedding videographer, remember?" Gluskin's grip loosened on Andrew's windpipe. "Put him down. It's not like he will have to appear in our recordings of this _cherished _day with those ghastly marks around his neck, which would be a total disaster, but I don't want anyone to get hurt. So let go of him now, darling!" Waylon finally gained confidence. Gluskin saw reason in his ramblings, so he released Andrew who collapsed on the floor in a fetal position. "Spend your first night with the tread of my boot, rat!" The Groom spat, then he put on a sickeningly wide smile. "I won't disturb you anymore, darling. I will meet you by the altar" he blew a kiss and left the room.

The entire room sighed with relief. Even Andrew. Waylon found this to be utmost irritating. Why do all the thugs and douchebags aim him every time he crosses their path? But it's only a matter of time to do justice. In the end, Jeremy Blaire will be kneeling at his feet and pleading for his forgiveness. Until then, he will only have to play along. As Miles put it: it's not that hard.

He was preoccupied with such thoughts when someone suddenly called out for him.

"Uhm, Bride fellow? Soon your escort will be here."

"And who will it be?" Waylon asked indifferently.

"Mr. Trager. Mr. Blaire appointed him personally."


	7. There Goes Your Bride, Mr Gluskin

Chapter 7 – There Goes Your Bride, Mr. Gluskin

Waylon comforted himself with the thought that it is not uncommon in this institute for people to run around almost naked and yelling incomprehensible things - which he was indeed in the middle of doing. How, how, how could he think that playing the role of the bride could get him revenge on his son of a b*tch of a boss? It only got him out of his clothes (twice). At the moment, the only item of clothing separating him from the outer world was a towel around his waist. He sorely missed his comfortable shoes (he left them in the bridal dressing room), but every once in a while, one has to offer a sacrifice in order to survive. Hopefully Andrew would not steal his shoes out of revenge, or for other uncanny purposes unknown to the rest of mankind.

The only thing that reverberated in his mind was that the plan went up in flames and he had to find Miles fast. They needed to come up with a new strategy, anything that did not involve Trager tearing up their insides with his enormous shears. For God's sake, Blaire intentionally wanted to get him murdered by his psycho accomplice! He had no qualms about playing it dirty, never did. Damn it, he was like the Devil himself.

"What kind of whorish demeanour is this? How could you abandon the dress I have sewn just for you?!" echoed an angered shriek from around the corner. Waylon promptly flung the nearest door open and got inside fast, only hoping that he would not experience more pants-sh*tting things than those awaiting for him in the _welcoming_ arms of The Groom.

A bunch of security guards were sitting around a desk, playing poker and looking chilled. Waylon could not believe his eyes.

"Excuse me, gentlemen. We have a hostile patient out there!" he told them. They shrugged their shoulders, never even looking up from their cards.

"Let the Walrider take care of it. Heard he is really pissed off today, because they did not invite him to the wedding party. Shame on them, the cake will be delicious." a bald guy responded.

"He is trying to kill me dead, guys!" Waylon tried not to sound too desperate, but failed miserably.

"Who cares? We'll most definitely die first and you won't see us screaming and panicking like this", said the same person as before. He had a name tag of 'Stephenson'. "But if you want to live just long enough to taste the cake, I advise you to crouch down this instant." Waylon dropped his body on the floor, successfully avoiding to be seen by Gluskin who just got past the door.

"Thank you!" Waylon remained on the floor, but smiled at Stephenson. "Do you know how to reach someone in the other side of this building? Like, a phone or something?"

"You are still here? Oh god, this guy is really annoying. Listen, there is a phone next to the gymnasium." Waylon nodded, than hurried to the window to climb down the wall. Doors were dangerous now. Before he left, Stephenson said one last thing to him.

"Y' know that you are butt naked, right? What are you doing?"

Standing on the windowsill, Waylon turned back for a last comeback, turning to the dark side at last. "If no one steals the bride, then the bride has to steal himself!"


	8. The Reunion

Chapter 8 – The Reunion

Miles succeeded in finding the inmates Waylon told him to assemble. In fact, he was about to give them a pep talk. "Gentlemen, we have a grave task to flawlessly deal with. If we fail, then who knows what utter chaos may ensue, but I foremostly trust your expertise. We can do this! Now let's go through the drill again: first, you will sneak into the wedding chapel and ignite the altar, Pyro. There is no wedding with no chapel, right? Than Dennis, you'll have to use the microphone to announce as Jeremy Blaire - and I will need you to muster all your talent up to sound as mean and irritating as possible – that due to the fire and the 'disappearance' of the priest, they have to cancel the wedding and declare the winner of the competition. Got it, everyone?" Miles asked. Pyro and Dennis looked him dead in the eye. "I'll take that as a yes. Okay now, will this paint palette keep you company, Father Martin? You have the whole room for yourself, don't be shy and paint some pretty things".

"Yes, my son" Father Martin answered gracefully while finishing a hopping rabbit with his fingers. "I want to cheer up the Walrider with my art. He is exceptionally upset today and I had no intention of offending him even more by pronouncing those two faithless men husband and wife and have them cut the **cake**."

Something inside Miles _itched_ the same time as he heard screaming from the adjacent corridor. "THE **CAKE**, MILES, IT IS THE **CAAAKE**!" Waylon cried. "You hear me, Miles? We have to get the cake!"

Miles ran to the door and threw it open. "You were supposed to call me, genius!" he yelled. Waylon quickly sprung into the room. The inmates looked slightly perplexed, but Father Martin devoted himself to his work. "The phone lines are not operational, so I had to improvise. Never said I was good at that" Waylon panted and for a moment they silently embraced the bro feeling. "We are in great danger, Miles. I got picked by Gluskin and Blaire made Trager my escort. One of them is enough for me to flip my sh*t, not to have all three of them on our backs." Waylon said, deeply troubled, but continued.

"However, I have seen something that could be to our advantage. When I was looking for a phone to call you, I came across the gymnasium. You know what I have seen there? Tied up, in great numbers? …" Miles shook his head.

"Balloons. Big pink balloons. So they became the decoys in my plan. We're going to pop every single one of them at the same time and lure Gluskin there to check out the commotion. The cake is already in the canteen, near to the chapel, so we will have to make a run for it. By this bold step, we will have the chance to steal the cake and give it to the Walrider." Waylon proposed. Miles seemed a little bit confused. "Okay, Waylon, but how are we going to pop all those balloons? It will sure look idiotic if we try to do it one by one."

Waylon patted him on the shoulder. "I hope you are still interested in that gastro-blog, Miles."


	9. Lovefool

Chapter 9 - Lovefool

You might listen to this before reading: watch?v=u3AXKjlH4rQ

The first stage of the plan went more smoothly than they previously expected. Miles distracted Trager and Manera by inviting them to a hearty game of tag. Right after Trager and Manera rushed out to ensure the imminent demise of Miles, Waylon slipped into the kitchen and gathered as many sharp objects as he could and carefully carried them to the gymnasium, only to experience something truly peculiar. In the centre of the gymnasium, Eddie Gluskin was searching for something on the floor. A few seconds later, he bent down to pick up one of the weights to which the balloons were connected with strings. When he was straight up again, Waylon could see there was a wrinkly, bald human head in his hands. He almost yelped, but managed to muffle his own scream by biting his own hand and almost cutting his own head off. He became all the more shocked when he realised that Gluskin was speaking to that head.

"Are you sure that this concoction will work, Mr. Agrippa?" his voice sounded worried. The head answered gently, with a faint foreign accent. "I am 100 % percent assured, my friend. When I had my body, I brewed love potions to entertain the lads in my village. They never came back dissatisfied. Just don't forget to…" the head was interrupted mid-sentence, for Gluskin promptly put him in a bodybag. "I am sincerely sorry, old man, but Manera promised me to make a piñata out of you for my darling."

Waylon's eyes widened with bewilderment. What amount of batshit crazy is Gluskin capable of? Now he wanted to give him some kind of a love potion to acquire his support for the imaginary wedding! This madness had to be stopped. He rooted for Miles to be able to reach the canteen in time, because Waylon was about to set the plan in motion. He barged into the gymnasium, but rapidly come to a halt to spend time on contemplating how to carry out precisely the next phase of his plan. This proved to be an asinine move.

A lovesick smarmy voice began to resonate through the hall and Waylon's skull. "Hearts go astray, leaving hurt when they go. I went away, just when you needed me so. Filled with regret, I come back beggin' you. Forgive, forget, where's the love that we once knew?"

Waylon got more startled the moment he recognised voices other than Gluskin's to join in the chorus. Had he actually persuaded others to play a part in his insane game? "Open up your eyes, then you'll realize" An elongated pause in the sickly serenade gave an opportunity to Waylon to slip away through a vent. He leapt to get his hands on the edge of the vent (dropping all his accessories in the process), when a Variant with a pink bowtie pushed him down, sending him to the ground. Waylon ended up sitting on his almost naked bottom, stuck in the farthest corner of the gymnasium, facing Gluskin, who apparently entered the area and slowly walked near him. Two Variants accompanied him, dressed as old-timey chorus girls. _Approximately how many dresses have Gluskin sewn? How much freetime did he have!?, _Waylon's thoughts rambled. They continued singing. "Here I stand with my everlasting love! Need you by my side, girl to be my bride. You'll never be denied, everlasting looove!" Upon reaching Waylon, Gluskin knelt down before him and offered his hand.

"Forgive my earlier rudeness, darling! I orchestrated this humble performance for you to beg again for your dear hand" pled the creepy Groom. Waylon knew that he had to pick up the pieces of his plan and roll with the current situation if he wanted to make it to the cake somehow. Hence he started to stretch out his hand for Gluskin's, who used this careless opening to strike him in the upper arm with an injection. Waylon flailed with his arms ineffectively as a reaction; Gluskin somewhat impatiently, but forgivingly restrained him. "Darling, I need you to move less. How am I supposed to live with myself if I accidentally stick this into your beautiful eye?"

"Romeo… must… die" Waylon pouted before falling into the deep abyss of images of multiple Jeremy Blaires pointing at him and laughing and Gluskins dressed as Bavarian jodlerins.


	10. Don't Feel Like Dancing

Chapter 10 – Don't Feel Like Dancing

Miles has never been so scared for his life. The Scissor Sisters hunted him throughout the whole Male Ward, closing every prospect of escaping the instant it could have arisen. Still, Miles was not _Up_shur for nothing; when his desperation hit its peak, he caught a glimpse of the ceiling and found a conveniently placed entrance to a vent. He hopped up and quickly began crawling through. Trager and Manera howled incessantly. "Are you in just another hole?! You can't run nor hide from us forever, buddy!"

The videographer rested for a couple of minutes to catch his breath in the narrow ventilation passage. _How is Waylon faring_?, he wondered. He feared the worst as he did not hear the popping of the balloons. What if…?

A distorted voice from the public address system answered his unfinished question. "All Murkoff personnel report to the wedding chapel. The ceremony starts in 10 minutes. I repeat, all Murkoff personnel report to the wedding chapel…" Miles gasped. Waylon fell victim to the scheming of their enemies! He must come to the rescue! He descended from the shaft and racked his brain for a solution. The wedding chapel was officially a danger zone. He still had to make a beeline for the cake and shove it in the face of Gluskin to lure him away from his friend. There was no other choice – only a showdown between The Groom and The Videographer.

"Are you in trouble, son?" a distinct German accent sounded from a dark segment of the corridor. Miles set his camera in the direction and turned on the night mode. The accent belonged to a mummy-like old man in a light-coloured robe, with a beard, and on a wheelchair. The whole situation felt so awkward and out of place that Miles dared saying the following. "I don't even know if you are supposed to be Obi-Wan, Stephen Hawking, Professor X, Gandalf or any kind of bullshit you could come up with, but I warn you, old man, that I certainly do not feel compelled to play your crazy games! I have met more than enough bonkers to take you on as well! Only a piece of advice, though: drop either your fake accent or beard because you are already over the top! Leave me be, I have important and life-deciding stuff to care about!".

The old man shook his head. "I am neither of those, foolish youngster. I am no mad man; I am the leader of Project Walrider in disguise. My name is Rudolph Wernicke and I am here to help you."


	11. A Trap Indeed

Chapter 11 – A Trap Indeed

"Truth to be told, young man, this godforsaken Project Walrider was not the real venture to which I intended on devoting my last years." Wernicke began explaining in a tired, hoarse manner. "No, I had greater plans. I have always held German folklore in high esteem, therefore I wanted to share the glory and beauty of it with mankind. But that's when things went south, precisely." Wernicke sighed. Miles refrained from asking how long the tale was going to last - he did not have much time left to sabotage the wedding Tim Burton would beg to get the rights of to shoot a movie about (_A musical maybe?_, he pondered). He let the old man spill the sh*t. "Yesterday, we mixed the infusion tubes while testing the subjects. One of the pipes was filled with unicorn mane volume gratifier. Little did we know that dissolving in a sick mind, it acts as a love potion and renders our lives a living hell." Wernicke paused to let all the information hit Miles. A chaos dominated the videographer's conscience as he tried to process the input. "What do you mean by unicorn mane volume gratifier? And who got it? What's this blabber about!? I can't make order of what you just told me, old man."

Wernicke stared daggers at him. "Be as spiteful as you may, even you could appreciate the glamorous sight of a unicorn. Here at Murkoff, we wanted to bring a wonder to life - we wanted to breed unicorns. Their mane is prone to get tangled so we invented a potion which would have had to suffice as hairspray. Needless to say, it had other unwanted symptoms and we had to shut down Project UniRider, much to my dismay. But it seems a larger dose of the potion remained intact in the tube, thus resulting in a great calamity. The test subject to endure the effects of the so called love potion is the one called Eddie Gluskin." Miles was overwhelmed with all the tiny bits of wtfery of Wernicke's speech. Only one sane question popped up in his mind. "Don't you have some kind of an antidote?" he hastily asked.

"Wait until you hear the catch. I am most regretful to have to break this to you, but somehow Gluskin managed to lay his hands on another vial of the same love potion and shot it into your friend." Miles heard a clang as the camera fell from his hands. This day just could not stop being worse and worse. "Now, in a smaller dose, it has the effect of a love enhancer. Unfortunately, in a larger amount, it stirs aggression and predominant needs of assuming supremacy in a specimen. In plain English: there will be a fight for dominance between Gluskin and your friend due to the fact that your friend… he received a larger dose, I'm afraid."

"And you have run out of antidote last week, right?" Miles sarcastically guessed. "Is there anything we can do to salvage Waylon's means of surviving or should I simply establish myself as a wildlife cameraman and film the unprecedented encounter?"

Wernicke slow-pacedly rolled forth with his wheelchair. "Should you cease to be rash, you could realise I am here with you, trying to spoonfeed you the significant details instead of hiding in a basement. There is a reason to why I concealed my identity and came to the surface. Jeremy Blaire, greedy little rascal as he is, would like to make profit on the scandal of the love potion. Nevertheless, we are able to stop that from happening. I was watching you from the start, Mr. Upshur, and I have to assure you, you were right about the cake. It has the key to everything we see unjust. Follow me and help me get it."


	12. Pumped Up Cakes

Dear readers! It came to my attention that some typos are present in earlier chapters. Those were not intentional and I have no f*cking clue how to correct them. Thank you.

Chapter 12 – Pumped Up Cakes

No patrolling forces were seen around the cafeteria, which calmed Miles a bit. The cake was positioned on a table in the middle of the room. Wernicke stationed beside him and quietly gave orders. "You must prepare for anything, Mr. Upshur. Blaire and his accomplices are capable of any measure to keep you from obtaining the cake since it constitutes a major part of Blaire's evil plan. Unimane volume gratifier has been funnelled into it to ensure the "success" of this wedding party and gain the financial support of business executives. But with a slice of cake, we will be able to switch the balance. After we fed it to the Walrider, he will be lovestruck and keep Mr. Gluskin occupied. Now go."

Miles briskly picked his way through the tables in the cafeteria, carefully watching left and right. He was conscious of that the entire situation came of as a setup, but he was short on other possibilities. Time of conveniences was up, sadly; the butcher trio waltzed into the canteen as soon as he crossed an invisible line a couple of metres before the cake. Miles broke sweat upon seeing his dreaded enemies: Trager, Manera and Walker victoriously approached him with clenched fists and brandishing weapons.

"Who wants to have the first piece?" Trager roared exuberantly. Miles attempted at preserving his cocky attitude, so he disinterestedly snapped back the following. "You mean the cake or me, buddy?"

"Poser!" snarled Walker. "I can sense your little piggish fear!"

"With what?" Miles could not stop yammering for his life. "Your face is kinda disfigured."

"Joke's on you, your mamma will say the same thing!" Manera excitedly yelled.

Hardly had Miles begun to pray for his life when an obnoxious female voice echoed from the exact spot Miles left Wernicke. "Final destruction initiating in 30 seconds. 30…". The old man cried out, shocked. "I told Blaire not to build this thing into the wheelchair! Son of a dirty liar!".

Miles exhausted this last chance to snatch the cake and run away with it. What he could not see, though, is that a cunningly placed bottle got in the way of his feet. He lost his steadiness and consequently, the cake splatted on the ground. Multiple screams resonated in the hall of the canteen (presumably Miles' and Wernicke's). And to worsen matters, Walker planted his body on the miserable remains of the cake and started stuffing his facehole with it. The weary videographer was on the edge after watching the giant man feasting on Waylon's very last opportunity to free himself from Gluskin's grip. Trager and Manera shouted bolstering chants to help Walker devour the yummy treat.

"23…22…21" the voice of the woman dictated.

"Yee-haw, Walker! Eat the whole stuff, buddy!" Trager and Manera continued.

"Rot in hell, Blaire!" cursed Wernicke, still unable to leave the chair of impending doom.

Miles ducked under a table and started rocking himself. He felt tipped over, betrayed and lost. Is this the way it supposed to end? His friend's life and his carrier as well? If he ever escapes this place, he will never-ever be able to stand the sight of a wedding cake again, so goodbye, videographing. Goodbye Waylon…

The countdown reached 10 when he regained his composure, thanks to an inexplicable sensation tingling in his skin and brain. A certain buzz.

The next seconds went down quite notoriously. A cloud of black thingamajigs (Miles could not see what they were) stormed into the room and supposedly looked at the bastard Walker, who was munching like a pig. The cloud let out a frightening screech and glided to the crouching man. Miles got up and watched the scene with great anticipation, but the Walrider –of course it was the Walrider! – failed to live up to his expectations. Instead of tearing apart all of the foes and raining blood shower on the room, he sorrowfully squealed again and again and tossed Walker behind to scoop up the leftovers of the cake, hammering it into himself.

"The power of the unimane volume gratifier compels you, Walrider!" Wernicke bellowed mightily. He crawled along the walls to distance himself from the bomb. Walker and the others stood fazed.

Miles knew what he had to do. He sprinted to the exit of the canteen at the top of his speed and cried. "THEY ARE EATING YOUR CAKE, GLUSKIN!"


	13. Found Love In a Hopeless Place

It's been a while since I updated the story. Also, the next is probably the last chapter.

Chapter 13 – Found Love In a Hopeless Place

The explosion proved to be a mighty earthquake that shattered the whole cafeteria. Miles immediately ducked down to the ground and covered his head with his hands, madly wishing not to get hurt. Pieces of the ceiling crushed violently into the floor, shards of indistinctive objects flew all over the place and a fire began to scorch its way through everything malleable. However, Miles remained basically undamaged. He could not tell what kept him from harm's way until he peeked through his hands.

The black swarm that constituted the Walrider stood beside him, perseveringly tossing the flying debris away and occasionally checking on Miles' status. When the suffocating smoke polluting the air reached their position, the Walrider gently pushed him out of the zone of danger, to the pile of wreckage that was once the exit of the cafeteria, since Miles was standing in stupor. Then the buzzing black cloud - _Or is it rather a person? It has certainly shifted into a form of a man_, Miles wondered – returned to the ash-stricken ruins of the cafeteria, melting into the generally dark background. Miles concluded that he was free to go – he craved to leave the area and he still had to come to Waylon's rescue. But what made the Walrider his ally?

Outside the cafeteria he heard (as he could not see through the thick smoke) people roaming the hallway, shouting for help. He hurdled over the heavily obstructed threshold of the cafeteria. Now he just had to look for a quiet place to figure out what to do next…

"YOU! YOU RUINED THE WEDDING CAKE!" Gluskin's sudden appearance startled Miles and had him dart for an exit. The robust gentleman hardly moved a muscle in his direction, though, when the Walrider stepped out of the cafeteria, holding the fatigued body of Wernicke in his arms. It assessed the situation instantly and placed the old man on the ground to throw itself right on Gluskin, knocking him to the wall. Gluskin let out a surprised gasp and they engaged in a mad battle. Miles could not help but turn back watch the fight. He has not seen such a ferocious brawl before, and he has been to a lot of weddings.

Unfortunately, he let his guard down for a second, but he was reminded of it when a blow sent him to the edge of a table. He could not tell who the perpetrator was. His pained groan alarmed the Walrider, who spun around and sailed to him, affectionately chirping something. Gluskin also chirped something affectionately, except that he was shouting and it was not affectionate. "Come here you…", but his chin dropped when he recognised the one who attacked Miles. Wernicke seemed to be utterly flabbergasted by something completely different and grovelled nearer to the turmoil, only looking at Miles and the Walrider crouching by the videographer.

Then, Gluskin and Wernicke started to speak at the same moment.

"Oh my god, you have become the Walrider's…" "Darling?! What are you doing?"


End file.
